


a quiet (birth)day in

by freyjawriter24



Series: BT Tower Telephone Group B [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Background Aziraphale/Crowley, Gen, Happy Birthday Warlock!, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling Joins The Them, Warlock turns 18, yes Stardust exists in this universe don't think about it too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: Adam smiled. “It’syourday today.”Something warm bubbled up in Warlock’s chest at that, spreading upwards into his cheeks.Your day. Because, for a change, whathewanted mattered.***Warlock's 18th isn't as tightly-scheduled and over-the-top as his 11th birthday was. And surrounded by the people he loves, it truly is the best birthday ever.
Relationships: Warlock Dowling & The Them (Good Omens)
Series: BT Tower Telephone Group B [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937806
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	a quiet (birth)day in

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [evil spirits (telephone game group B)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648965) by [sevdrag (seventhe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag). 



> Thank you to [sevdrag (seventhe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag) for the (redacted) inspiration! I was, uh, _slightly_ off with what I wrote based on yours. But I hope you can see where I was coming from!
> 
> Thank you also to the rest of my group for participating - this was so much fun, and I'm loving seeing the way this chain of works progressed!
> 
> And of course, thank you to the mods who organised the event, especially [Phoenix_of_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena) for all your work to make this happen.

“No, definitely _Princess Bride_ ,” Pepper insisted. “It’s a classic, and it’s really funny.”

“So’s _Stardust_!” Brian enthused. “I promise, you’ll love it.”

“We could always watch both, you know,” Wensleydale offered from his precarious position on a chair, attempting to blu-tack the end of a string of rainbow bunting to the ceiling.

“Or you could let Warlock choose,” Adam said, climbing down from where he’d been sticking up the other end of the bunting. “It _is_ his birthday.”

“It’s yours too,” Warlock pointed out.

“Yeah, but my party’s tomorrow.” Adam smiled. “It’s _your_ day today.”

Something warm bubbled up in Warlock’s chest at that, spreading upwards into his cheeks. _Your day_. Because, for a change, what _he_ wanted mattered.

Birthdays had historically been somewhat of a conflicting occasion for Warlock, usually involving the indignity of being centre-stage at some big _event_ ordered into existence by his parents. It felt nice having things be more relaxed. He was still at the middle of it all, but there was no pressure this time, no schedule or spectacle. Just the people he cared about (the people who cared about him) and a quiet day in. 

Not for the first time, he felt incredibly grateful to have been introduced to – and accepted into – this little group of friends. _His_ friends.

“Both,” he decided, to a grin from Brian and a scowl from Pepper.

Adam smiled again. “I’ll go make the popcorn.”

Warlock pulled his feet up onto the sofa and tucked them under him, the way he’d never been allowed to in his parents’ house – the way he was practically encouraged to here, because here was home, and here he could be himself.

He watched, quietly contented, as the rest of the Them ripped open a packet of balloons and started blowing them up and throwing them into the air. Behind him, he could hear the microwave whirring and the popcorn popping in the kitchen, and the tell-tale sounds of Crowley telling Aziraphale off for nicking pieces of whatever snack food they were putting together for lunch.

Warlock smiled softly, taking it all in. This was what a family really was, he reckoned. People who were comfortable around each other, who supported each other, who protected each other with the fierceness of a shared childhood or a six-millennia bond.

The memory of the first time they’d all been here together floated to him softly over the sounds of Brian making fart noises with one of the balloons. It had been winter, the first year Crowley and Aziraphale had owned the cottage, and the Them had been invited over to help with decorating.

“What do you reckon?” Adam had asked mid-squabble. “Tinsel or fairy lights?”

He’d looked at Warlock so intently that it felt like he was staring into his soul. But he’d waited for an answer, and that had solved the argument, and then it was like Warlock was part of the group. Simple as that.

“Oi! Hellspawn!” Crowley called from the kitchen, breaking the reverie.

The continued absence of Adam suggested this was aimed at Warlock. “Yeah?”

“D’you want presents before or after lunch?”

Warlock twisted and leaned over the back of the sofa. “I thought I said no presents?”

The demon grinned wickedly and winked, before ducking back out of sight. Warlock rolled his eyes. “Before, I guess. Get it over with.”

Aziraphale appeared through the doorway, a small parcel in one hand and a suspiciously tall gift bag hanging from the other. He smiled warmly at Warlock, then gave a small grimace that almost looked apologetic. “One, two, three!”

The singing came from every corner of the house – loud, out of tune, and ridiculously enthusiastic.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”

Warlock cringed exaggeratedly, but couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as Crowley appeared from the kitchen, carrying a huge cake lit up in eighteen sparklers rather than candles. Adam followed, grin equally wide, with a huge bowl of popcorn and a stack of plates.

The cake was incredible, chocolate fingers pressed round the edges to pen in the mass of sweets that had been added to the top, making it look more like a box of treats than an actual cake. Warlock waited until the sparklers burned right down to the bottom, then pretended to blow them out. The little crowd cheered.

He was passed the presents next. The gift bag, as expected, contained a bottle of wine. One far too old and expensive-looking to be anything other than unearthed from the cellar of the bookshop.

“Now, be safe about it please, my dear,” Aziraphale said sternly. “Only drink among people you trust, and never too much at once.”

“Yes, Brother Francis,” Warlock sing-songed back, and the Them laughed.

He didn’t know what to expect from the little parcel, simply wrapped in brown paper and red string. He didn’t know what to say when he opened it, either.

Crowley sat next to him on the sofa and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“We wanted you to remember that whatever happens at uni, we’re still here for you, and you can call any of us if you need, whenever.”

It was a picture frame. A simple one, made of flat, black-painted wood, but it was the photo inside that gave Warlock pause.

It was a group shot of everyone there, arms around one another and laughing, from when they’d all met up a few weeks ago. Warlock didn’t even remember the photo being taken, but he remembered the moment. He remembered the happiness, the excitement, the love.

Warlock turned into Crowley’s shoulder and cried.

The rest of the day was filled with cake and popcorn and party food, watching films and dissecting them with film theory and feminist critique, reminiscing over old times and planning for the new.

This, he decided, was what life was all about: feeling happy and safe and fulfilled; being surrounded by friends; loving and being loved. That was all he ever really wanted.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reunions of the supernatural kind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649466) by [elf_on_the_shelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/pseuds/elf_on_the_shelf)




End file.
